


Taste like home

by lalois



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:46:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalois/pseuds/lalois
Summary: Ohkura talks frequently about food. Ryo is sometimes concerned about its implications.





	Taste like home

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt coming from ANN 170506, Ohkura’s radio program, when he talked about food and warm food. HERE the link.

It had not been unexpected, the way his favourite drummer had eagerly relaxed in his arms after a particularly tiring day. The end of the nth rehearsals for his upcoming theater work had left him thrilled yet exhausted, as usual.  
Quite charming also, as usual.

Ryo's fingers roamed freely around, to tickle the bare skin where the delicate crests revealed the presence of Ohkura's spine, and had him shiver briefly.

It seemed like a crime, to interrupt that silent and beautiful moment of contemplation of those tempting curves, where some well deserved rest was about to seep in. But he really had to.

"So, why exactly did you feel the need to talk about my habits with curry, Ohkura?" He asked, clearing his throat.  
He got no answer, though, so he shook the young man slightly.

"Hey, Ohkura?! Are you sleeping already?"  
"... nh?"  
"Are you sleeping?" Ryo repeated.

"Mmhhhh… I was about to... yawn... 'so 'ired... Why aren't you sleeping as well, Ryochan?"  
"I'm thinking."  
"Then why are you thinking?" the drummer quietly asked, in a groggy voice.  
"Because of what you said about the damn food during your damn radio program... It's freakin' buggin' me."

Ohkura sighed, and felt no effort to open his lids.  
“... Why?”  
“You talked about the curry and me.”  
“... oh, you noticed?”  
“Sure I did, that was so obvious!”  
Ohkura groaned.  
"... can't help it. If only I think about it, it's you I see before my eyes. Always. Habits included."

The younger man propped himself up on both elbows, with his eyes still closed, and leaned forward to kiss Ryo on the mouth.  
"You're cute whenever you fight with your curry," he whispered then, giving him another peck on the lips.  
Sloppy as it had eventually started, the contact deepened soon and Ryo melted in the kiss, in the heat of the skin of a warm chest grazing his own, and in the fragrant scent of theirs that Ohkura carried whenever he was in his bed. Ryo's hand pulled him closer by the nape, his fingers clenching into the mass of the black, damp curls beneath.  
They were still caught there, when the drummer pulled back and his dark orbs looked straight into his eyes.

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

Ryo kissed him briefly back, in a mute reply, but didn't manage to get lulled by the comfort of those feelings not even a few hours later, when Ohkura was snoring softly, curled up beside him, while he was still caressing the beloved naked skin, lost in thoughts.

He had blessed his insomnia back then, when he had made use of those incredible amounts of hours in the black of the night to enjoy life to its fullest. It wasn't that funny anymore, though, and being convicted in needing sleep for only a few hours per day, forced him to think about anything and nothing in the world way more often than required.

Ohkura's presence had indeed lessened all the bad feelings, most of the time.  
Most of the time, that is, when said thoughts were not about him nor about his peculiar relationship with food.

Ohkura could be considered food himself, yet he was incredibly picky when talking about his preferences with food. Which could be seen almost like a paradox, but with Ohkura being Ohkura, paradoxes had to be renamed.  
Exploring the drummer's food habits did almost mean like having a precious key to some part of his huge inner world, and Ryo knew that after all those years spent together, there was still so much he didn't know about him.

Just to say, Ohkura did not like eating bread.  
Ryo obviously loved making his own home made bread whenever he could.  
Ohkura had never even tasted it.  
Ryo wondered how on Earth one could say “dislike” to something you’ve never even eaten once.  
They had obviously argued about that so frequently that sometimes Ryo didn't even remember which was the lie the drummer had used the most to excuse himself from his taste offerings.  
Ah yeah, Ohkura did not like cold food. Sure. Yeah, that was not some lie.

Ryo purred over cold ramen, of course.  
Ohkura preferred feeling the taste of home. Home. His mother's, once, but right now, what was home like? Where was it, even?

Ryo suddenly disentangled himself from Ohkura's warmth, slipped into his jeans and walked barefeet to his kitchen.

The equipment was all there, and so was his good old apron.  
Maybe it was a bit late -or way too early, depending from the point of view- to make things straight, but sure he could give it a try.  
He had not left his beloved mixture to leaven in that bowl for nothing, after all.

Flour in his palms, Ryo let his hands fuse with the squishy, shapeless blend, as it turned it all over his palms and it stuck stubbornly between his fingers.

He let the bread machine temporarily unused, aside, and kneaded it quietly, almost tenderly, thinking feverishly at the sleeping beauty under his bed sheets, at the indecent way he slurped his ramen in front of his cold soumen and the rice he had exchanged for fish with him only, for so long.

As the flabby mixture became warmer in his hands, Ryo could almost see all the winks they had shared on stage and behind the cameras, the tears the moron had spilled on his sofa, the ones Ryo had hidden from him for too much time and even those they had kissed and licked from each other's face.

Salty and spicy, their life. The way they made music together, both literally and not, the hunger Ohkura had started keeping for himself when he had become rounder, fearing their fans' reactions, the rage Ryo had yelled at him back then, and fuck the kilos, insisting on how much he had been way too important for him, round or not, important in such a compromising way, and a lot more of other things, a lot of other ingredients tasted right on Ohkura's tongue, all pouring together into the flabby bread-to-be.  
He felt exhausted, then, by placing the soft mixture into the faithful bread machine after having added that special flavour he had so carefully thought of.

He felt satisfied by simply watching the baking, but as it would have taken about four hours for the loaf to bake, Ryo considered the option of going back to bed. It would have been ready for breakfast time, anyway.

He cleaned everything up, turned off the lights and staggered a bit while going back to the bedroom. He was about to slip off the apron he had almost forgotten he was wearing, when he bumped into a half-naked figure in the dark corridor.

"Ryochan?"  
Ryo turned on the light button beside the walls, and the drummer got dazzled by the sudden brightness.

"Ugh..."  
"Why awake, Ohkura? You should be sleeping like a log by now."  
"But I was feeling cold and then I realized you were not there and-" he froze dead. "Eh? Why an apron, Ryochan?"  
Ryo cursed under this breath and bit his lip. Of all things, why did he have to notice that?

"Uwa... were you secretly about to eat some cold soumen on your own?" the drummer asked, raising an eyebrow though yawning.  
Ryo suddenly pulled him down to him and kissed him on the mouth.  
"Soumen when I have you in my bed? C'mon, Ohkura..." he murmured huskily, scratching tenderly the drummer's nape, and locking mouth with him again.

The drummer seemed still way too groggy from sleep to kiss him back as he deserved to, but Ryo did not mind.  
He felt incredible hot love running through his veins instead.  
Ohkura missing him even in his sleep.  
Ohkura actually daring to wake up from the beloved sleep.  
Ohkura, who did not have to know yet what he was about to.

"C'mon, go back to sleep now..."  
"I need you there, too," the drummer insisted.

Ryo felt those hands encircling his waist, pulling him into a rather unexpected embrace, finding the hem of his jeans and slipping inside to cup his buttocks without further notice. Ryo held his breath, sighing from a way too pleasant surprise, as Ohkura's touch grew bolder and his fingers soon left him with his jeans hanging around his heels, and nothing else between them, apart from his apron and the drummer’s boxer shorts.

When Ohkura nipped at his neck and ear, Ryo chuckled.  
"It seems to me you're kinda awake now, you moron..."  
" 'Goin' around wearin' an apron in the middle of the night, tha’t's un’fair, Ryochan..." the drummer whined, nuzzling his nose against the guitarist's skin.

"I wasn't exactly naked," Ryo teased.  
"You are now, though."  
"Mmh, not yet..."

Ryo knew it was cheeky, the glance he exchanged with the drummer as soon as the latter pulled back to look straight at him. And he did also know the-now-fully-awake Ohkura had basically got its meaning, so however unpredicted, Ryo approved the hands that started roaming around his body half covered by that apron only. He would have never ever thought of managing to make someone aroused in such a ridiculous outfit, yet the hands that slipped beneath the fabric to find the bare skin were telling him a quite different story.

He leaned back against the wall and by doing so his elbow accidentally turned off the lights again, leaving Ohkura feasting on him through the dim lights of the metropolis coming from outside the windows in the living room, right behind the wall where they were.  
"You smell so good, Ryochan," Ohkura murmured feverishly against his skin. "What were you doing with that apron to smell this incredible? Will you tell me?"

Ryo smirked and grabbed his favourite ass as his only reply, appreciating the way Ohkura was taking care of the bulge behind the fabric in the meanwhile.  
The drummer sucked from the most sensitive spots of Ryo's chest, trapping him against the wall to lift his frail body up, having the guitarist lock his legs shamelessly around Ohkura's hips, making Ryo dizzy and almost mad from the heavenly sensation of the drummer’s frantic thrusts.

Of all things, it had never occurred to his mind that one day he would be performing such rough sex while wearing a stupid apron.  
And he wondered why on Earth Ohkura was the one offering all of himself to him like that, when he had worked so much to give him more than something, instead.

But with the drummer stretching him intensely, and the pleasure stirring from deep inside him, strong and powerful and always like never before, it was all too much, too much for a proper thought, so that when he reached the bliss, it was with a feeble and incoherent moan left against Ohkura's earlobe, and the latter followed him, almost collapsing against him.

"Ryochan..." Ohkura cried, his voice a tender whisper.

Ryo held him strongly back, realizing he was still wearing the damn thing that had led them against that wall, and couldn't help but chuckle, thinking how very much like home all of that felt, somehow.  
Being home with the only one he really wanted, making love to him whenever and wherever they felt like to, even in the most unexpected of moments, not even bothering to be up to some expectations or be ashamed of feelings or whatever else he was constantly too concerned with during his public life.  
Feeling like home might as well become one of the best thing ever, for him. But what about his lover?

Ohkura was half-purring and half breathing still too hard against his ear, a soothing sound Ryo did seriously regret not to hear more often. Like, 24 hours per day.  
He kissed his temple, ruffling the wavy hair there.

"Hey... seriously, you should go to bed straight right now, instead of wasting time here with me fucking like crazy... and besides, I'm becoming an old man already, didn't you know?"  
"But it's never enough, the time with you, Ryochan..." the drummer tenderly confessed, between new sloppy kisses down Ryo's throat. "And besides, you shouldn't leave the bed when you're with me, even if, well yeah, I know I have some nervous sleep..."

A few more kisses, that Ryo felt unable to refrain from, just like the large hand he took in his while leading Ohkura back to his bedroom, putting him to sleep with the mere force of his husky voice repeating with a very low key in his ear the lyrics of an elephant struggling with life. And after getting finally rid of the infamous apron, Ryo thought he could as well join his band mate in his sleep, his nose buried in the thick curls down Ohkura's nape.

**

Ryo felt awesomely refreshed in the morning, and took his long time in the shower while a certain figure was still rolled up in his bed.  
He woke him up by tickling him until Ohkura resolved in opening his lids with a loud groan, and an even louder yawn.

“... Wanna sleep longer…”  
"Told ya, yesterday" Ryo said, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't make me regret it, Ryochan... because I won't.."  
"Great," Ryo smiled. "So, I've made breakfast... but I'll have to blindfold you. Just to say."  
"Eehh?! What for?!"  
“I have to.”  
"Would you seriously do that?!"  
"I would.”  
"I'd scream, aloud, though."  
"I love your screams, Ohkura. Especially the most unexpected ones," Ryo grinned. "Unless... you agree to taste it without complaints," Ryo told him.

"Taste what?"  
"My bread."  
Ohkura pouted.  
"I've already said-"  
"You're just being stubborn," Ryo cut him off. "But luckily, I'm more stubborn than you. And you'll eat this, or you'll be banned from here from now onwards. I’m serious."

They stared at each other for long, Ryo towering over the drummer still sitting on the bed, both glancing suspiciously at each other, as if the previous night and cuddles and audacious whispers had never existed on Earth.  
But it was now or never.

"Where is this thing, then?" Ohkura asked in the end, looking away, defeated.  
Ryo was back with a tray full of things in no time, and offered him a slice of some warm loaf of bread, soft and dark with a strong toasted scent.

Ohkura sniffed at it suspiciously.  
“Coffee? Is there coffee in here?”  
“Shut up and eat. Please. I swear it tastes even better with azuki jam, if you wanna try. Just like a mamedaifuku in a slightly different shape and taste.”

Ohkura pouted again, but Ryo insisted with his piercing gaze. He suspected that for once his puppy eyes look might have made the work even with the drummer, for the latter sighed again and suddenly shove half of the slice in his mouth straight.  
Ohkura closed his eyes, savouring each morsel and chewing it slowly, carefully.

"Uwa… This is... good," he uttered then, in a whisper. “Not so sweet like I thought. Maybe... even too good for me, mmh, just let me…”  
The younger man spread some azuki jam onto another slice, and chomped it eagerly this time, closing his lids again, concentrated.  
“Mmh… G‘yoch’, u’re g’ight. So good…”

"Hey."  
Ohkura looked up at him.  
"Are you faking it?"  
"Gwhat?! No!"  
"I swear I'll have you food poisoned if you do!"  
“It’s seriously amazing, Ryochan! I’m sorry I… I’m sorry I was being a pretentious bitch… you were right, it tastes awesome. I don’t like bread, but this is great indeed.”

Ryo bit his lip, nodding slowly, while Ohkura brushed his fingertips over Ryo’s knuckle, beside him on the bed.  
“Maybe not all the one I make is different, but this one was meant to be special for sure, Ohkura.”  
“Eh?”  
"This is what it means home, to me,” Ryo carefully explained. “A home where I do belong and where I'm not alone anymore, because you're there, too. Can you feel it?"

“Because of when I say I prefer food that tastes like home, isn’t it?” Ohkura gently asked, looking for his eyes.  
“Kinda,” Ryo admitted, cocking his head to one side.

“You needn’t to,” Ohkura replied, tentatively smiling at him. “I mean, I’m glad you did this for me, but that wasn’t needed.”  
“Why not? I put so much effort in this and yet you-”  
“But you’re in there anyway. Because it’s you, Ryochan.”  
“Eh?”  
“To me, Ryochan, you taste like home. It’s you.”

Ryo frowned, speechless.  
“But I can’t be... I’m not…”  
"Let me show you, c'mon," Ohkura said, patting the bed beside him, motioning for Ryo to get closer. He kissed him gently on the mouth, parting Ryo's lips eagerly, having the latter return the languid caresses together with his feelings and his mixed up thoughts.  
It took Ryo a while, to break off from the make-out, and not without an audible sigh escaping his lips.

"Thanks for yesterday... tonight... whatever, all of this" the drummer chuckled then. "So the apron-"  
"That wasn't planned at all," Ryo cut him off. "And besides, you were the one ambushing me, Ohkura!"  
"That couldn't be helped, you were, well... something."  
"Well that won't happen again, anyway."  
"Seriously? Ryochan?" Ohkura pouted like a little child, and Ryo rolled his eyes.

"Well, maybe, okay? If you promise to behave with my homemade food from now on, I can think it over. Moron."  
"That won't be such a sacrifice," Ohkura laughed, shaking his head. "But I might seek revenge for this indeed one day, you know?" the drummer teased, with a peck on Ryo’s nose.  
"Call it whatever you like.”  
"I might call it I love you, Ryochan."

Another kiss. Precious words. Another unexpected turn of events, and Ryo’s stomach fluttered like never before.  
"I guess I have to go now, Ryochan," the young man said then, leaving the bed to pick up his scattered clothes. "I won't be done with the rehearsals for a while, the show's really due in no time..."  
"I'll be there."  
"I know."

"Hey, Ohkura."  
The drummer turned on his heels, looking questioningly at him.  
"Happy birthday, you moron."  
The younger man beamed at him, murmured a soft reply through a flying kiss, then disappeared in the bathroom.  
A particular ordinary day, at Ryo’s place.


End file.
